Hannah is six months old. Six months. How that happened so quickly is a mystery to me. I was still pregnant during my last post…
Life with two has been expectedly busy. I’ve managed to work a little, here and there, between panic attacks. Mostly, I’ve been falling more and more in love with my kids. One is a human talking machine who never seems to run out of energy. Four-year-olds, I’ve learned, have stories to tell. “Mommy, I want to talk about earthquakes. And Christmas. And robots…” The other, probably the cutest baby I know—not that I’m biased or anything—now prefers to screams her demands at me. I mean, my kids know how to get results.
Our lives are full. We are happy, sleepy, and, mostly, drowning in baby drool.
